


Flying Colors

by champagne_cake



Category: Kuroshitsuji : The Most Beautiful DEATH in the World - Iwasaki/Mori/Mari
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Funny, Gentle Kissing, M/M, Short One Shot, Slice of Life, eric is a goof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24533596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/champagne_cake/pseuds/champagne_cake
Summary: Alan tries on a skincare mask, and Eric gets the living Scot scared out of him.
Relationships: Alan Humphries/Eric Slingby
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Flying Colors

_Begin by cleansing your face. Next, apply the mask with your fingertips or a brush. Spread evenly all across your face, except the areas around your eyes and mouth._

“Seems simple enough,” Alan pondered out loud, painting light, careful strokes of pale green clay across his complexion.

Having shared a deflated, _exasperated_ rant during a mutual venting session over lunch with Grell, she did what any good friend would do — send him home with a canister of her favorite face mask. Admittedly, he’d lost her _somewhere_ between the benefits of antioxidant serum, and the elaborate details of her ten-step Korean skincare routine, but he was nevertheless curious about the product. Self-care was important to Alan, and it was something he often stressed to Eric and his other co-workers. However, it was easy to forget about himself once in a while, when collections and paperwork began to pile up. He truly had Grell to thank for this one; he would certainly have to send her a thank-you text the following morning.

 _This feels very nice, indeed._ With a gentle smile rising at his lips, Alan closed his eyes and hummed as the effects of the clay mask began manifesting. His face cooled significantly in the covered areas, and a soothing aura of lemon and mint filled the atmosphere. _This is wonderful...how did I overlook these for so long?_ After enjoying a quiet moment to himself, Alan checked the back of the canister for setting information.

_Wait 10-15 minutes. Rinse and pat dry. Finish with a moisturizer._

Replacing the lid of the flat, cylindrical jar, he placed it on a shelf next to Eric's shaving cream, and headed out the door. It was late, and he was planning to retire within the hour anyway. Some last-minute pampering couldn't hurt the slightest. Yawning, he heard the slamming of the dryer door, followed by a grunt coming from the laundry room. "Eric, do you need a hand?"

A struggled "Nope, got it — thanks," came from the other side of the door. Alan sighed, shaking his head in amusement. Oh, _Eric._

Tightening the belt of his bathrobe, Alan turned the doorknob to enter. "Alright, but at least let me get the door for y-"

_"BLOODY FECKIN' HELL, ALAN!!"_

Within a second of the door swinging open, hard plastic bumped against wood, and two heaping laundry bins — one stacked atop another — came _pouring_ down upon Eric, knocking him onto his bottom. _"Whit in God's name urr ye sportin' oan yer coupon?! Ah'm fair puckled — ye'r a' green, mo chridhe!" _Partially muffled by a few towels, the Scot whipped his head from side to side, knocking them out of his face.

Alan gasped, equally freaked out by Eric's reaction, and bent down to start picking up the loose towels and shirts now covering his partner in a warm, cottony sandpit. "Eric, it's a _face mask!_ Are you hurt?"

"A face _whit noo?"_ Eric sputtered, studying Alan as if he'd just discovered life as alien as his green complexion.

"A mask," Alan reassured. "One of Grell's skincare products — you put it on your face, then leave it for about fifteen minutes. Makes it feel nice and cool. She sent me home with a container of it after I told her about _last week."_ A series of surprise murders swept through northern England, resulting in a packed, sixty-hour workweek.

"Ye look lik' an alien," Eric observed, a small smirk appearing on the side of his previously distraught face, as his partner slowly freed him from the toasty pile of fabrics. "How'd I know you're not out to abduct me, wearing Alan's skin?"

"Hmm, I don't know," Alan played along. "Why don't you ask me something only Alan knows?"

"How's he take his coffee in the morning?"

"Three creams, one sugar, always hot. But only when tea won't do the trick."

"Where was our first date?"

"Formally, the pier by the pub where we escaped that _awful_ group date. Informally, that field of ericas belonging to one of our early collections together."

Eric's face drew closer and closer with each call and response.

"How'd my lips taste?"

Obliged as ever to satisfy, Alan grinned. "Like this," he whispered, closing his eyes, and briefly losing himself to his senses. Arms moved from the piles of soft clothing surrounding them to wrap around Eric's neck. Eric's arms broke out of the laundry pile to wrap snugly around his waist, bringing him closer. Alan rose higher on his knees, communicating sonnets and love poems, all without words.

_I love you._

_I love you._

Pausing momentarily to enjoy every fleeting moment of the affectionate display, Alan broke smoothly from the kiss, eyes opening slowly to meet Eric's once again. The two exchanged silent, loving smiles.

"Believe me yet?"

"Aye, you're my Alan alright. Even when you're green."

"That's good," Alan chuckled. "Now help me get these- _oh dear,_ now it's on _your_ face." Eric rose up from the laundry pile to have a look in the mirror, and laughed, shaking his head. Sure enough, several small patches of green clay were now stamped across his forehead, nose, and cheeks.

"Come, love, help me pick up the rest of this laundry, then I'll show you how to wash it off," Alan laughed, one arm wrapping around Eric's waist, and giving oh so gentle of a squeeze.

**Author's Note:**

> "Whit in God's name urr ye sportin' oan yer coupon?! Ah'm fair puckled — ye'r a' green, mo chridhe!" — What in God's name is on your face? I'm short of breath — you're all green, my heart!
> 
> Hi, I'm so sorry if the Scots is jibberish, feel free to correct me if you speak it.


End file.
